


save the last dance (for us)

by kazkazooz



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ice Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Dancing, Valentine's Day, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazkazooz/pseuds/kazkazooz
Summary: After adding "Olympic gold medalists" to their list of titles, it's time to figure out what to do next.[Spideychelle Ice Dance AU]
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	save the last dance (for us)

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually just a fic I wrote for my own fanarts.  
>   
>  _(Disclaimer: All characters and events depicted in this fic are entirely fictitious.)_

“Are you dating Peter?”

The fan who just asked for her autograph suddenly blurts out a screech, startling MJ and resulting in an ugly wobbly line in her signature.

Her smile falters for a millisecond. Not enough for anyone to notice, though. Acting isn’t one of the things that MJ’s incapable of, considering she’s been doing just that for nearly all her life—both on _and_ off ice.

She hastily finishes signing and hands the marker back to the fan, smiling wider and sweeter like how she has practiced for years.

“No, we’re just friends.”

It’s the same answer she has always given the fans, the media, their friends, their coaches—basically everyone they have ever met.

A faint noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort follows immediately after their exchange. Standing beside her is _the_ Tony Stark—her head coach, main choreographer, and career mentor—impatiently starting to usher the crowd out of their way.

“Okay guys, move along,” he does that wavy hand thing in their faces, “we‘ve got somewhere else to go.”

The crowd ahead of them pretty much split in half and retreat to the sides at once.

MJ supposes that’s the impact a renowned and well-respected coach has on the figure skating fans. That or the fact that most of them are charmed by his good looks and the unapologetically arrogant attitude that somehow people perceived as charisma.

It’s a bizarre phenomenon worthy of discussion—more so than the ongoing ‘ _Are MJ and Peter dating or not?_ ’ debate in her opinion, but the matter that people choose to invest themselves in isn’t exactly up to her decision, much to her annoyance.

Once they manage to get through the crowd, leave the arena behind them and reach the spot where the shuttle bus awaits its passengers, Happy—who has been waiting in the cold night air for half an hour—grumpily lectures them about time management while helping them load their trunks underneath the bus.

The ride from the arena to the village is surprisingly longer than she thought. MJ stops counting how many street lights they’ve passed after 100. Her back sinks deeper into the cushioned seat as she notices how the excitement from winning the game earlier begins to wear off, and in its place leaves the exhaustion that slowly erodes her bones, weighs down her joints and chips away at her wakefulness.

She yawns and lets her long limbs sprawl lazily to the empty seat beside her. MJ doesn’t get to do that often, since Peter normally sits next to her when they’re traveling together, and they always travel together.

It’s insane when she stops and thinks about the fact that she has spent almost every waking moment of every day for the best part of the 18 years of her life with Peter. Especially in the past eight months after graduating high school, both of them decided to put off college and focus on training for the Olympic season. Consequently, they have been more inseparable than ever.

They train together 10 hours a day, 5 days a week. Their go-to recreation is to binge-watch TV shows and movies together at Peter’s on Saturdays. They go grocery shopping and prepare their meals (because they’re _serious athletes_ and the diet they’re on is stricter than you thought imaginable) for the coming week together at MJ’s on Sundays.

They travel the world together for competitions at least once every month. They have their shared calendar and it’s basically the only one they need.

Most people would be sick of each other if they spend even half the amount of time MJ and Peter shared. But she isn’t one of those people, and neither is he.

Objectively speaking, she knows how ridiculous it is that she’s already missing him. After the medal ceremony, Peter was sent to the hospital for a checkup on his back injury that has been haunting them this all season, and therefore absent from her side.

And she’s not used to that at all.

It’s their tradition that whenever they were alone after finishing a competition, Peter would whisper in her ear, giving her an animated description of the cool stuff he had seen around the rink—some fan-made banners, for example. Then, after he had gradually come down from the high, he would recount all the minor mistakes he had made this time and apologize for not being good enough.

She would tell him that he’s being dramatic and he’s more than good enough.

She wants to tell him that right now. And perhaps some other things, too.

“You alright there?”

Happy’s head peeks over the seatback in front of her, concerns written all over his face.

“She’s just sulking because the fans care more about her love life than her gold medal,” Tony interjects.

“You say that as if it wasn’t your fault,” Happy snappily replies.

“Hey, don’t pin this on me,” Tony holds out a finger, “I’ve merely put some almost-kisses in the programs, the rest is their own doing, alright?”

Happy rolls his eyes, whereas MJ doesn’t even have the energy to keep her eyelids from drooping lower. She still says “’m just tired” when she realizes that Happy’s not backing down without getting a response.

He briefly disappears from her sight, then returns with a bottle of sports drink in his hand. “Here,” he drops it into her palms.

She mutters a “thanks,” unscrews the cap and takes a sip.

Unlike Peter, who constantly needs his fix of sugar, MJ actually prefers water over sports drinks. Peter would know that. But she doesn’t blame Happy in the slightest. It’s not like she has ever complained about it or anything.

She’s just spoiled by Peter. So much so that She’s used to not having to speak out loud and explain everything all the time, and still be seen, heard and understood.

It’s scary when she thinks too much about it, but it also makes her heart swoon.

The bus comes to a halt just before she starts dozing off. Happy gets off first to grab their trunks. MJ shrugs her bags on and follows, but Tony puts a hand on her shoulder when she passes his row, stopping her in her tracks.

“Look, I know I’ve established the whole _no dating_ rule to eliminate any distractions, and you guys are still in for Worlds so the season’s not over yet,” he pauses a full second,” but you guys did great. I’m proud of you kids.”

“…Thanks?”

“Point being, you can date now. The two of you have enough golds from Worlds to decorate a Christmas tree anyway.”

MJ stares, and Tony stares back.

He’s being serious. She can tell from his face.

“What about next season then?” she huffs sarcastically, “should we break up before it begins, or can we wait until the Grand Prix Final?”

“You’re not taking a break? What about college? You’ve talked to Pete about it already?”

Three questions in a row, none of them to which she has the definitive answer.

“…No.” It’s the factual answer to the last question, as of yet.

Tony gives her a pat on the back. “Get back to me when you’ve done it.”

He gets off the bus, leaving her alone. She sighs tiredly.

She should be allowed to have a break and celebrate the biggest achievement in her life, but she’s not exactly in the mood to party when her partner’s not around.

She hopes that at least she can get a full night’s sleep. It’s not going to be easy after Tony brought up the dreaded questions, though.

* * *

“Stop pointing the camera at me without my permission unless you want to get punched in the face.”

In the corridor leading back to her room, MJ’s way gets blocked by Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson—one of their fellow skaters who competes in the men’s single, also currently the most annoying person on the face of the planet to her.

“I’m vlogging, say hi to the fans, Jones.” Flash remains unfazed by her threat, but his eyes dart around somewhere behind her. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

She glares down at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He finally lowers his phone, but still bold enough to snark: “Sorry, I mean your _fake_ boyfriend. And if that wasn’t clear, I'm talking about Penis Parker.”

Her eyes narrow.

“You call him that again and I’ll make a compilation video of you falling and post it online. Remember that time you failed a flying camel? That was a classic, Eugene. My favorite part of your program, actually.”

The sneer on his face is gone instantly.

“You wouldn’t.” His voice trembles.

“Only if you stop being such a dickhead,” she grins triumphantly, satisfied that she hasn’t lost the ability to intimidate him.

MJ smugly pushes the incoherently stammering Flash to the side and finds her way back to her room.

After settling her luggage, taking a quick shower and going through her skincare routine, she lies spread eagle on the bed and closes her eyes.

Her thought naturally starts wandering in this quietest moment she has had in days, maybe months, or even years.

She muses on the fact that what once was her dream is now her reality. She set out her goals when she was six and they have now become the youngest ice dancers to win gold at the Olympics.

It’s unreal, how she has actually done everything she said she’d achieve. Not that she thought it was impossible, but she has had moments of frustration and self-doubts, just like everyone else.

What’s unlike everyone else, is that she has Peter, who, despite being the complete opposite of her, is probably the only one that understands exactly what she has gone through, and vice versa. They never need to talk about what they want, because they just _know_.

But there’s one thing that she can’t be certain about, and they need to have that conversation.

Her phone rings at the exact second she reaches for it. She’s got messages from Peter.

 **_Peter_ ** _: doctor says i’m fine :)) on my way back but don’t wait for me and go to bed if you’re tired_

She grins in relief, typing her reply swiftly.

_‘See you next morning then. Don’t be late.’_

His reply pops up almost in an instant.

 **_Peter_ ** _: I won’t!_

She laughs at herself, for even the smallest thing like the exclamation mark makes her heart flutter. The feelings are welling up inside her and she wants nothing more than to call him and hear his voice right now.

But it’s late and the rehearsals for the exhibition starts early the next morning.

 _It can wait_ , she tells herself, switching the lamp off and slowly falling asleep.

* * *

“Where’s Peter?”

Cindy skates across the rink to MJ’s side and asks out of the blue.

She blinks. “Probably somewhere backstage playing soccer with Nikita.”

They’ve just finished learning the choreography for the group number, so it’s technically break time.

“Good,” Cindy fishes her phone out of her pocket, tapping and swiping like she’s looking for something.

“Why? What do you want?” MJ eyes her skeptically.

“I met this cute guy, he plays hockey,” Cindy flips her phone, showing MJ a picture of some guy, “and his friend’s really cute, too.”

She barely looks at the photo before turning her face away. “Not interested.”

“C’mon, MJ.” Cindy sighs, exasperated. “If Peter doesn’t ask you out by now then what’s the point in waiting?”

“Who says I’m waiting? I’m just not interested, simple as that.”

Cindy pretends she doesn’t hear MJ and goes on. “Honestly, I thought he and Felicia broke up because of you. I even had a bet with Brad saying you two would finally start dating for real. 20 bucks, gone.”

She’d argue that Felicia and Peter’s breakup had nothing to do with her, but she knows it’s purely a waste of time if she tries to convince Cindy of that.

“I didn’t know you and Brad were friends.” MJ skillfully steers the conversation to a less-awkward topic.

“We weren’t. Well, not like you and him, anyway.”

“I wasn’t friends with him, either.”

It’s true. They only went on a date when they were 15, _once_ , and that’s all there is to it.

Cindy looks suddenly uneasy about something.

“Did you see Brad subtweeting you last night?”

MJ has a bad feeling about this. “No. What did he say?”

“He talked about you guys being speculated as a couple. ‘ _Isn’t it obvious that it’s just for show?’_ ” Cindy imitates Brad’s voice, “Oh, and ‘ _It’s actually more believable that MJ and I are secretly dating,’_ or something like that.”

MJ wants to roll her eyes further than anatomically possible.

“I’m going to the toilet,” she makes up an excuse to escape any more unsolicited persuasions and information from Cindy and gets off the ice.

MJ goes to the backstage vending machine and finds Peter and Nikita (gold medalists in pair skating from Russia) kicking a tiny soccer ball around in its proximity.

Peter beams at her when their eyes meet.

“Hey, MJ! Wanna join us?”

Nikita turns around and waves at her. She waves back.

“No, I’m fine.” She smiles, mainly for Nikita to show her friendliness.

About 30 seconds later, Peter walks up to her when she’s considering which kind of beverage to purchase. Nikita’s walking away, she notices.

“Why stop?” She asks.

“He wants to go back to the rehearsal.” Peter’s puckering his lips and rocking on his heels slightly.

MJ can always see through his lies. _Always_.

“He told you that? I didn’t know you speak Russian.” She teases him.

“He actually speaks English pretty well, you know?” He smirks, apparently pleased with his comeback.

“Is that so? I should try to talk to him more, then.”

MJ steps away as if she’s actually going after Nikita, but Peter clutches her wrist and stops her.

“Uhh…I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

She smirks. “And why is that?”

He thinks for a while to come up with an answer, but turns out he actually has a valid one.

“I need you to walk me through the choreo…?”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Were you even paying attention to the choreographer?”

“C’mon, you know I learn faster from you.” He pouts.

“What if I missed something? Then what, hmm?”

“Since when did that ever happen?” he chortles, “but if you do, we can just copy the others’ move on the spot. We’ve got this, Em.”

He takes her hand in his smoothly, just like how he has done countless times before.

As cheesy as it sounds, holding hands with him is genuinely the most magical feeling she has ever experienced. It sends her flying, yet anchors her at the same time.

And she doesn’t want to let go of that, ever.

* * *

They had received a standing ovation for their performance at the Gala. They even had _two_ encores. Everything flowed smoothly—their lifts are probably even better than the ones they had done in the competition.

So there shouldn’t be any reason that’s making him nervous now, during the finale.

The group number _was_ kind of sloppy, but it’s not unusual for the skaters. And she had only sensed his nerve after that, so it surely wasn’t why.

The music changes to a slow-paced song while she’s trying to discern his emotion under the dim ambient lighting. It’s the part where they were told to just slow dance without a choreo.

And so they do.

For a second, she thought she was mistaken, as Peter gazes into her eyes and smiles serenely.

But she recognizes the difference in the way he holds her hands. It’s a bit forceful, somewhat awkward and not at all graceful. Nevertheless, her heart beats faster still.

With their foreheads almost touching, she can see his face more clearly now. His jaw clenches and relaxes and his lips are quivering.

She can tell that he’s gathering up all his courage to say something, and it sparks off something inside her.

“I want this,” she blurts.

“What?”

He’s completely, _utterly_ caught off guard.

She takes a deep breath before elaborating. “I want us to be like this, just a little longer. We can go to college and compete at the same time, if that’s what you want?”

It’s been on her mind for days since the night they won gold.

She couldn’t get the words out because she wasn’t sure if he’d want to continue as she does. She still has a lot more to offer for this sport that she’s so passionate about. They are young and they have time, but what if he wants different things than her? What if he decides it’s time to move on and have a life outside of skating— _outside of her_?

Yet none of that matters to her when he looks at her as though she is the brightest star in the night sky.

After a flicker of a surprise crosses his face, he smiles more contentedly than ever.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

Peter buries his face in the crook of her neck. She holds him securely. They sway gently to the beat, for as long as they are allowed.

* * *

They went viral on the internet. A lot of people—even those who know nothing about figure skating—are tweeting about them, leaving irrelevant comments under every photo she has posted on Instagram, and so on.

All because the Gala happens to be on Valentine’s Day.

She would really like to delete her social media apps, after seeing all the assumptions people make about their relationship. Unfortunately, she has obligations to her sponsors and therefore couldn’t do so.

It’s her least favorite thing being a successful athlete. They were not some major celebrities by any means, but the attention they get this time is _huge_ , if being on top of the worldwide Twitter trends is anything to go by.

Just when her headache starts ramping up, she gets a FaceTime call from May.

Still lying on her back in the bed, MJ answers the call.

“MJ! Congratu-oh my gosh, did I wake you up? I thought I got the time zone thing figured out.”

MJ holds back a groan. Her face must look more disgruntled than she realizes.

She rubs her face in an attempt to wipe off all traces of her grumpiness. “You didn’t wake me up, May. The media is what’s bothering me.”

“Oh. Is it that bad?”

She nods.

“Oh, honey,” May commiserates, “I know it’s completely up to you, but maybe it’s time you consider telling the truth.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

“I don’t think that’ll make the situation any better.”

“But you won’t have to hide anymore,” she points out, “at least consider telling your coaches, especially with the engagement thing going on…you _are_ inviting them to the wedding eventually, right?”

Wait, _what_?

“What engagement thing?” She pulls the phone screen closer, trying to scrutinize May’s face through the laggy, blurry image.

A series of loud thuds echo in the bathroom, directly followed by Peter falling through the forcefully burst-opened door. He dives into MJ’s arms and snatches her phone away.

“Hi, May! I’ll call you back, love you, bye!” He finishes the sentence and ends the call faster than MJ can even react.

Her reflex might not be the best, but she is observant and mindful.

He’s giving her that boyish, crooked grin.

She’s _certain_ that Peter’s hiding something.

“What _engagement_ , Pete?”

His face falls, like a puppy getting kicked.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.” He rubs the nape of his neck and coyly avoids looking straight into her eyes.

Her memory from hours ago surfaces. She remembers that she thought he was nervous about something.

_Oh._

“You were planning on proposing to me? At _the Gala_?”

He blushed fiercely. “We’ve been dating for a while now, and you know, I thought after winning the Olympics was the perfect timing.”

She stifles the urge to giggle. “We’ve only been dating for less than a year, Peter.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Really? Feels a lot longer than that.”

“Also do you know how a _secret relationship_ works? Proposing in front of a stadium full of audiences isn’t the way to do it, genius.”

“Nobody could’ve heard us! I could barely even hear myself.” He waves an arm behind, referring to the arena.

“You missed the point,” she playfully smacks his raised arm, pausing a beat before asking: “What were you gonna do if I said yes?”

He blinks. “I thought I’d just let you take charge of everything.”

She does let out a giggle this time.

From an outsider’s perspective, that statement might seem a little irresponsible, but it’s just how they’ve worked as partners over the years—she’s a perfectionist and will only be satisfied if she has every little detail under her control, while Peter wears mismatched socks at least once every two weeks and her help is the only thing keeping his life in order amidst their hectic schedule, juggling between training and his duties of everyday life.

Turns out she’s not the only one who has developed dependencies on the other person between the two of them.

“There’s only one thing that I must insist on, actually.” She says.

“What’s that?” His eyes light up.

She grins widely. “ _You_ have to do the choreo for the wedding dance, so I won’t have to teach you for once.”

Peter grins back, eyes crinkling endearingly.

“Deal,” he jumps to his feet with eagerness. “You know what? I have one that I can teach you right now.”

He tugs at her hands and pulls her up to her feet. Peter just randomly moves her around, sometimes making a goofy face to get a laugh out of her.

Needless to say, they are no strangers to dancing. But this isn’t their usual well practiced routine. It’s a bit clumsy at times, and instead of acting theatrically to an epic piece of music, they just grin at each other and dance to his joyous humming.

There are no judges scoring them, no fans screaming at them and no cameras pointing at them. It’s _their_ dance and theirs alone.

As much as she enjoys performing and the accolades she gets from it, this is her favorite kind of dance.

Just like how they are keeping their relationship a secret, their last dance will always be saved for the two of them only.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know what you think and thank you for reading!  
> (Find me on tumblr: [@kazkazoozoo](https://kazkazoozoo.tumblr.com/))


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